


An Ocelot Makes Three

by micheoffy



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Apartment AU, Established Relationship, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, M/M, because i can't write smut r u kidding, new pet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micheoffy/pseuds/micheoffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Ray share a little apartment in Los Santos and they lead an eventful and happy life, but when Ray keeps bringing home stray pets, Ryan isn't sure how to handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ocelot Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> For you Ollie, thank you for being an inspiration <3

Something either twitched inside of Ryan, or his eye had a weird sort of nerve spasm, the moment Ray stepped inside the apartment dripping wet with rain and cradling something even more thoroughly soaked in his arms. At first, Ryan considered the possibility of it being groceries, the ones he’d asked Ray to pick up roughly three days ago, but the way the young man hastily shuffled in his squelching trainers across their tiny living room and into their bathroom, reaching for towels and a hairdryer, confirmed Ryan’s worst fears. 

This was the third time Ray brought an animal home, and quite frankly Ryan had no clue what to do about it as he watched wordlessly from the doorway, Ray carefully patting down the towel over the creature in an attempt to dry it off, completely ignoring his own state and that of the floor Ryan had so meticulously cleaned earlier that day. 

The first time Ray had nearly gotten the two of them booted out on the streets it had been due to one of those Shiba Inus that barely made it past their couches and into the apartment without knocking over Ryan’s bookcase or chewing through Ray’s Xbox and its many, many wires and extensions. Nothing that Ryan said, or yelled, “You can’t name the dog, you’ll get too attached to it”, at his boyfriend was enough to stir some action into him finding the owner of the obviously well cared for pet, “Charlie” Ray had referred to her as when he’d tired of “Doge”. In fact, it wasn’t until Ryan took it upon himself to put up posters all around their vicinity addressing the issue of the Missing Shiba that the owner manifested herself almost a week later. 

It turned out that Tina had been frantically searching for Charlie this whole time and was tremendously grateful at finding her in such a loving environment at the very least. What Ryan didn’t mention to her as she waved goodbye, leading Charlie happily away in her harness, was the absence of a second carer for her pup, who upon arriving home to a “barkless” apartment had immediately deflated, and in his sunken mood retired early to play on his DS all night, silently promising never to replace those broken chords as a memento of their short time together. Ryan didn’t even protest when Ray lunged a blanket and his pillow at him as he was shifted onto the couch for the night.

Fast forwarding nearly a year since the incident, Ryan could almost say he was proud of Ray for holding onto his promise of not bringing home any more strays, almost.

But in Ray’s defence, the second time he had brought a puppy home it was in desperate need of help, and urgent rehoming, because it was found when Ray had stumbled onto a very aggressive owner who still practised dog fighting in his back yard. After an easily, and furiously, won brawl between the two, profanity practically spewing onto the guy’s ugly horrendous face and a constant reminder in his mind not to simply ice the guy, Ray called for Ryan’s help and together they disposed of any incriminating evidence against Ray, even if the bastard was still breathing. An anonymous tip to the police later led them straight into the situation and both men hoped from afar that all remaining dogs had been cared for, however the one they brought home had not ceased trembling from the moment Ray stepped a foot inside that dirty old house, so how in the world was Ryan supposed to deny the pair of puppy dog faces before him? It would take two weeks of readjustment from the dog’s old life to a relatively more normal replacement, avoiding at all costs the curious janitor who claimed to hear strange noises from number 303, for Ray to take the initiative, tears welling in his eyes, to rehome the loving Pit Bull pup Ray had named “Pat”. 

“Will I ever get a say in these things? I much prefer Edgar, he definitely suits a stronger name like Edgar,” Ryan had interjected, something akin to jealousy in his voice.

Ray was quick on the draw and didn’t miss a beat, “Dude, the last time you called something Edgar you dropped him down the same hole as the bomb you planted for that building to blow up and collapse, I’m not taking any fucking chances.” 

Ryan smiled fondly at the memory, when he’d attempted a witty quip, “See ya in the hole, Edgar!”, while unleashing sweet vengeance on the cheating costumer who hadn’t paid up for the Vagabond’s costly services. He couldn’t say exactly why he’d chosen to refer to that one as Edgar, but the name had since then been his go-to for whatever occasion deemed a name necessary, and Ray had just refuted it for another reason Ryan couldn’t quite explain. It was a solid name, wasn’t it?

At present, Ryan watched as Ray unwrapped the small creature from its burrito fold of towels and finally unearth it. Flipping the light switch previously ignored by Ray, Ryan squinted at the squirming creature expecting to find another puppy in between his boyfriend’s fingers, instead to hear a chirping noise, seeing two pointed ears and a curling tail poking out. 

“And who - who is this Ray?” was about as much as Ryan could muster, he was so surprised.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t had the chance to check for wieners either so I don’t know if I’ll give it a name yet. Isn’t it cute though?”

Ryan examined the small kitten as Ray began the drying process with the hair dryer. As his boyfriend brushed over the fur with his fingers carefully, in an attempt to soothe the creature, Ryan noticed it didn’t sport long fur and as it was dried, the pattern reminded him that of a cheetah, with dark circles spotted over a lighter, caramel toned coat. The kitten constantly shivered, whipping its trembling head about the room with large, scaredy yellow eyes, occasionally mewing. Ryan finally caved and nodded.

Ray, pleased with his efforts, continued, “I found it all on its own by the construction site downtown. I was coming back from a job so I cut across town through there, but I heard a strange noise-“ 

He was suddenly cut short by the violent sneeze that was so loud it bounced and echoed around the four walls that surrounded them. The startled kitten leaped out of Ray’s hands and fell straight into Ryan’s, who caught it mid-air. In his arms, Ryan could hear the poor creature’s heart beat erratically and even feel some ribs poking out. Before he allowed the immense pang guilt wash over him completely, he reached for his own towel and started rubbing Ray’s hair softly. 

“You get in the shower mister, I’ll take care of whiskers here,” he nodded at the kitten, who in turn gave its own little sneeze.

“Are you gonna make me?” Ray teased, tugging his damp purple hoodie off, eyes tracing the outline of Ryan’s lips.

Ryan chuckled. “Playtime is for after the kids go to bed, dear,” but he still leaned in for a short, contagious free, chaste kiss.

* * *

Ryan nursed the kitten even as the two men lay in bed, lazily watching TV, a sniffling Ray unwilling to do much besides stare blankly at the screen. He eventually turned to take Ryan’s entire glorious figure in, his lean body taking up much less space than he usually required to give way to the nursing kitten and Ray’s sprawled, exhausted but showered body. 

Where his boyfriend had acquired the tiny feeding bottle, Ray hadn’t a clue, but what he knew was that he was handling it expertly. The man must have had plenty previous experience with animals, and Ray yearned to know more.

“I grew up in a farm in southern Georgia, you know,” and Ray nodded, “But I spent the most time with the more, shall we say, domesticized animals. Our cat Mabel had a litter once and there were so many kittens I had to help her out at feeding time, quite sporadically.” 

Ray smiled with uncontained fondness. “You’ve never told me this story, you big nerd.”

“You’ve never brought home a cat before! What are we calling it anyway?” Ryan had promised himself to speak to the janitor, their neighbours, the entire building about the issue. He did would not allow Ray any further disappointment in that issue, they would be allowed a small house cat.

Ray raised his eyebrows, looked from the tiny cheetah to the beautiful man feeding it so tenderly. “Why don’t you name it?”

While Ray braced himself for the “Edgar II”, “Mr Whiskers-Scratches-A-Lot” suggestions, nothing could have prepared him for what Ryan said next.

“The little rascal looks like an ocelot. Why don’t we call it Percival?”


End file.
